by Glen Ebisch
Clarissa dredged up from her memory that Marcie was Jack’s wife. “Dave sounded kind of urgent,” she said doubtfully.
“Sorry, Pastor, that’s the best I can do. I have to help Marcie get the kids bathed and into bed right after supper,” said Jack.
“Okay. Why don’t you let me know first thing in the morning if you can go, and we’ll meet at the hospital around ten?” she suggested.
“Sounds good.”
After she hung up, Clarissa sat and stared again at the dark wood walls of her study. She wasn’t very surprised at Jack’s reluctance to see David Ames. Lots of people disliked going to the hospital on general principle, and others studiously avoided visiting people they knew when their condition was seriously diminished. All the same, something about Jack’s hesitance struck her as odd. She had been a bit surprised when Jack said he’d gone to school with David, since Jack looked to be in his early sixties, while David appeared to be well into his seventies. Maybe Jack was proof that leading a healthy life will keep you looking young, she thought.
She heard a low thumping sound coming from the next room. It took her a moment to realize that someone was knocking on the outside door. Checking her watch, she saw that it was time for her meeting with Ashley. Apparently the “Come On In” sign she had hung on the office door when she took over last Monday didn’t convince everyone that they should do just that.
Clarissa walked through the outer office just as there was another series of thumps on the door. She pulled it open—and was startled by the girl standing on the porch.
She was dressed completely in black: a black dress, black tights, and black shoes, topped off by a large black shawl. She had obviously dyed black hair and wore dark lipstick that gave her lips a purple, bruised look. She stood there giving Clarissa an expressionless stare.
Clarissa wondered if the local Wiccan group had sent her as a representative to welcome the new minister to the community. Not impossible, but surprising.
Nevertheless, Clarissa smiled. “Hello, how can I help you?” she asked.
“I have an appointment,” said the young woman in a clear and composed voice that made her sound much older than her appearance. Clarissa decided she was probably only a couple of years younger than herself. “I’m Ashley Reynolds, Mona Williams’ niece.”
“Of course,” Clarissa said, rallying her wits. “Please come in.”
Clarissa now realized the cause of Mrs. Gunn’s laugh. Ashley certainly wasn’t hiding any light under any bushel, only shades of black.
Ashley glanced into the office suspiciously, as if expecting to be attacked by a horde of churchwomen. When she was assured that everything seemed safe, she stepped inside. Clarissa directed her into the pastor’s office and pulled around her chair so she would be sitting in front of the younger woman rather than across the desk.
Clarissa smiled and thanked her for coming in, but got only her patented blank expression in return.
“So, what kind of a job did you have last?” Clarissa quickly asked.
“I worked in IT for an insurance company up in Newark,” Ashley answered. “I’ve been there since I got my degree in computer science from Rutgers.”
Clarissa’s heart quickened. Surely here was somebody who could fathom the mysteries of the church computer. She herself was hopeless with technology. “Why did you leave?” she asked.
“Personal reasons,” Ashley replied, not volunteering anything further.
“I see.”
“Look, it had nothing to do with work,” Ashley said. “I can give you a letter of recommendation from my former employer saying I did a great job, if you need it.”
Clarissa nodded, not yet sure how detailed to get in vetting Mrs. Williams’ niece, who, given her aunt’s position in the church, was probably a lock for the job. “You do realize that the position is for twenty-five hours a week, so it’s really only part-time,” she explained.
Ashley shrugged. “I have plenty of money saved, and I’m living with my aunt, who doesn’t charge me rent.”
“So why do you want a job?” asked Clarissa, more out of curiosity than anything else.
“I don’t, but my aunt said that I can only stay with her if I get a job.” Ashley shrugged again. “I guess it’s a character-building kind of thing. And this is the job she really wants me to take. It doesn’t matter what it pays.”
Clarissa told her the salary, and the other woman nodded.
“I didn’t expect much more than that,” she said.
Clarissa gave her a smile. “Well, then, why don’t we try things out for a couple of weeks and see how it goes.”
Ashley paused and glanced around the room. “The only problem is that I don’t believe in all of this stuff,” she said with a casual wave of her hand.
“What stuff?” For a moment Clarissa thought she was opposed to wood paneling.
“This religion stuff,” Ashley said.
Clarissa nodded again, deciding it wasn’t time for a theological discussion. “I see. Can you be polite to people who do?” she asked.
Ashley paused, then smiled. It was a surprisingly cheerful smile for such a somber face. “Sure, I guess I can do that,” she answered.
“Then you’re hired,” Clarissa declared. “I know tomorrow is a Saturday, and normally the job is Monday through Friday, but could you be here tomorrow at nine? Your first project is to see if you can get this computer online, and I desperately need it done.”
The young woman gave her a slightly superior smile. “I should be able to handle that.” They stood up and shook hands. Ashley turned to Clarissa as they walked into the outer office. “What do I call you . . . Reverend Abbot?”
“That sounds like I should be running a monastery. Just call me Clarissa, or Pastor Clarissa if other people are around.”
Clarissa thought she saw a small smile flit across Ashley’s purple lips, and then it was gone. “How about I just call you ‘Boss’ when we’re alone?”
“If you like.”
Ashley nodded and, in a flurry of black, was gone.
Clarissa returned to her office and sat behind her huge desk, thinking about her conversation with Ashley. The young woman seemed capable enough, and her demeanor gave Clarissa confidence that she would be a skilled computer operator and an organized office administrator. Her offbeat appearance and probably equally eccentric ideas might require some attitudinal adjustment on the part of the members of the congregation, but Clarissa believed that lifestyle diversity could be a good thing. She also knew that a lot of potential issues between her office manager and the congregation would be overlooked because Ashley was the niece of Mona Williams, an influential member of the church.
The phone rang; it was Jack Spurlock on the line.
“Hey, Reverend,” he said, “I think I can make it tonight after all, if you’re still available. Marcie says she can take care of putting the kids to bed.” He chuckled. “She actually said that I’m more of a disruption than a help, and I’d be of more use at the hospital.”
“That would be great, Jack,” Clarissa replied.
“Yeah, Dave and I were never close, but I guess I can at least see what he wants. What time should we meet?”
“Visiting hours start again at seven. Let’s meet in the lobby of the hospital right on the hour.”
“Sounds good.”
Clarissa hung up. Marcie had obviously been the catalyst in getting Jack to visit Dave. Clarissa wondered again if his reluctance was based on more than the fact that they weren’t close friends. She also couldn’t understand, if they weren’t really friends, why David had chosen him as the person to confide in about this apparently important matter.
Maybe after the meeting tonight, she’d know more about this increasingly intriguing matter.
Chapter Three
It was seven o’clock. Clarissa was already standing in the small lobby of the hospital when Jack walked into the building.
A bantam rooster of a man, he was short
and trim with a full head of white hair and a rolling gait, as if he had spent years at sea. When Clarissa first met him at the church, she’d asked if he had worked as a fisherman. He’d laughed and said that that life was too hard for him, but he did occasionally take people out on fishing excursions.
“Well, let’s get this over with,” Jack said grimly, coming up to Clarissa.
She nodded and they walked toward the elevator. “Are you sure you have no idea what he wants to tell you?” she asked.
“No clue,” Jack said with a tight-lipped smile that didn’t encourage any further conversation.
They went up to Ames’ room, but when they went inside, his bed been stripped.
“I guess he’s been moved,” Jack said.
Clarissa went out to the nurses’ station, Jack following close behind. The same nurse whom she had met in the afternoon was sitting behind one of the computers there.
“Still here, Wanda?” Clarissa asked.
“I’m working a double shift today,” she answered automatically. Then she glanced up and recognized Clarissa. Her face filled with consternation. “I hope you’re not here to see Mr. Ames again.”
“Why not?”
“He passed away this afternoon about four hours after you left,” said Wanda.
Clarissa took a step backwards in shock and felt Jack put a hand on her shoulder to support her. “He was old and sick, so it isn’t very surprising,” he said softly.
The nurse nodded, as if she agreed with that line of thought.
“I suppose that’s true,” Clarissa admitted.
“Well, I guess that’s that,” Jack said quickly, rubbing his hands together. He turned to Clarissa. “I’ll be by tomorrow morning to fix that window latch in the sanctuary. Would you like me to walk you out to your car?”
She shook her head. “Aren’t you frustrated not to know what he wanted to tell you?” she asked.
He smiled. “Probably something from the old days, and I already know everything he got into from back then. Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you?”
“No, that’s okay.” Clarissa really wanted to ask Wanda some questions, preferably without Jack being present. “Thanks anyway, Jack. I think maybe I’ll stop off in the chapel for a few minutes to pray.”
The man nodded nervously, perhaps slightly embarrassed at the thought of private prayer, and hurried down the hall to the elevator. Clarissa turned back to the nurse.
“Was he really that sick?” she asked.
“Well, he did die,” Wanda answered.
“I know, but he didn’t seem that sick this afternoon when I was here. He was fully conscious and knew what was going on,” Clarissa protested.
Wanda shrugged and shook her head sadly. “You can’t always tell. Some folks fade away gradually; others seem to be going along just fine, then suddenly quit.”
Clarissa didn’t buy it. Something was wrong here. “Did he have any other visitors after I left?” she asked.
The nurse lowered her eyes and hesitated. “Not during visiting hours.”
“Someone came later?”
“I’m not certain,” she said. “Early visiting hours are over at three-thirty because we have to get ready to feed the patients dinner. But I thought I saw someone come out of his room around four. I only saw a figure out of the corner of my eye, and I’m not even really sure they came out of Mr. Ames’ room.”
“Was it a man or a woman?”
“Don’t know. Whoever it was wore a hooded sweatshirt. It could have been anybody. I didn’t think anything of it.” Wanda looked concerned.
“It’s a little warm out for a sweatshirt,” Clarissa commented.
“But it gets cold in here,” Wanda pointed out.
Clarissa thought that the sweatshirt was also a convenient disguise. “Yes, I guess that’s true. When did you discover that David had died?”
“When I went in to feed him at around five.”
“Was he hooked up to some sort of alarm that would have warned you if he was in distress?”
Wanda blushed and nodded. “But Mr. Ames liked to get up to use the bathroom by himself, so he would disconnect the monitor and wheel his IV across the room to the john,” she said. “A lot of men do that because they don’t want a nurse standing outside the toilet waiting for them to finish. Mr. Ames didn’t always bother to plug it back in. I warned him not to do that, but he was rather stubborn.”
“So the monitor was unplugged?”
“Yes,” Wanda admitted. She leaned forward. “Look, Pastor, I could get in trouble over this. Could we keep it between us?”
“I’ll do my best,” Clarissa promised. “Was there anything else strange that happened this afternoon? Did David say anything to you after I left?”
Wanda paused and stared at the computer screen. “He asked me to get his cell phone and charger out of his locker. He wanted me to plug it in for him.”
“Did he make a call?” Clarissa asked.
“Not while I was there.” She stopped and gave the minister a level stare. “Where is all this going?”
Clarissa smiled. It was a fair question. But she was curious; David Ames was one of the few members of the congregation that she’d gotten to talk to one-on-one, and now he was just . . . gone. Something didn’t feel right about that.
“Probably nowhere,” she replied. “I’m just surprised that he died so suddenly.”
“It happens every day,” Wanda sighed.
“Yes, I guess you’re right. Where is his body now?”
“Down in the hospital morgue. Someone on staff is getting in touch with his family to let them know so they can make the funeral arrangements.”
“Good. Well, thank you very much,” Clarissa said.
Wanda nodded, but as Clarissa turned to walk away, she could see that the nurse was frowning, probably regretting that she had said something that she probably wasn’t supposed to.
Once back out in front of the hospital, Clarissa stood for a moment, simply enjoying the cool air that was blowing up the street from the ocean. It was a beautiful May evening, and what she wanted to do most was take a quiet walk around town, getting to know her new community. But she couldn’t seem to put from her mind the gnawing feeling that David Ames’ death had not been completely normal.
She didn’t know which bothered her most: the fact that Ames had desperately wanted to confess something, the appearance of an unidentified intruder in his room, the unplugging of his monitor, his desire to make a phone call, or simply the fact that a man who had seemed at some distance from death’s door was so suddenly pulled through. But when you put them all together, there clearly was something distinctly odd about his death.
Of course, she could be making something big out of very little, and the thought of explaining her concerns to a hard-faced desk sergeant down at the police station had little appeal. She could easily imagine herself, minister or not, being given a patronizing pat on the head and being told to be a good girl, go home, and have a soothing glass of warm milk. If only she had a personal contact on the force, things might go differently.
Suddenly she recalled a man standing in front of her at last Sunday’s welcoming luncheon. He was a couple of inches taller than she, about six feet tall, and was in his early fifties, with thinning hair and a slightly thickening waist. Clarissa had a good mind for physical details, but her ability to recall names was weaker. She thought hard for a moment, certain that he had introduced himself and said that he was a detective with the local police. He even told her that he was currently working the early evening shift and couldn’t wait for it to end in a few days because he found it hard to adjust his sleep cycle. She closed her eyes and tried to recreate the conversation.
Slowly, it came to her. His name had something to do with food. No, she corrected herself, something to do with food preparation. Was his name Cook? Not quite; the image of a rich dessert appeared before her mind. Baker, that was it, Joshua Baker. Feeling a sense of triumph, sh
e laughed softly to herself.
“Are you all right, Miss?”
Clarissa turned and saw a hospital security guard staring at her with concern. She nodded and smiled at him before hurrying to her car. I’d better get out of her before I end up in the psych ward, she thought.
Chapter Four
Shore Side’s police station was located in the same stately brick building as the city hall. Clarissa pulled into the parking lot and slipped into one of the spaces designated for visitors. She walked up the steps to the front door and, once inside, turned left, opening the door with “Police Department” etched on the glass in ornate script that looked like it went back to the nineteenth century.
A counter, much like the one she remembered from the principal’s office at her high school, divided the room, and a man in uniform came forward to greet her. But instead of a hard-faced sergeant, he was a fresh-faced young man, probably a couple of years younger than herself. He gave her a delighted smile, as if having a pretty young woman come to him for help had substantially brightened his evening. His name tag said Rudinski.
“How may I help you?” he asked smoothly, as if he were the concierge in a fine hotel.
“I’d like to see Detective Baker, if he’s available,” Clarissa replied.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
The young man’s face dipped into almost a parody of disappointment. “I’m sorry, but usually folks make an appointment to see a detective, unless, of course, they’ve been asked to come in. Maybe I could help you make an appointment?”
Clarissa decided to cut to the chase. “Could you tell him that Reverend Abbot would like to see him briefly, if he isn’t too busy?”
“Reverend?” the officer stuttered. Then he blushed, as if whatever he’d been thinking was definitely sending him on the fast track to the wrong place in the afterlife. “Just a moment please, I’ll check.”